Just so you know
by mottotao
Summary: After the death of a close friend and brother, everyone started thinking and acting in a more frustated way. They think they can survive it, but right now all of them need time to say goodbye. Rate M for not-so-good words. Main: RusXPru GerXIta other: Aus
1. Chapter 1

Author's words: Hi! Thank you for reading! It is my first time I write a fanfiction in English. Usually I wrote them in Chinese. And as I'm not very good at English I may had made some grammar or spelling mistakes here. Although my Word has the checking feature, I am quite nervous about the whole writing in English thing and I wish I did it right. I'm sorry if I did make any mistakes and a review is always welcomed. If you find any of my work is not proper or I had made any mistakes, please contact me in any ways so I can correct it as soon as possible.

Thank you again for reading!

"So that's it." Francis lifted his hand. He rearranged his hair a little bit, "You have to admit it's just too easy."

"Shut the fuck up, Francis, it is not…" Not easy for any of us. Antonio tossed a bunch of daisy towards the gravestone and snapped his head to the other direction. He couldn't bear looking to it again, that cold, lifeless, small boring stuff. He couldn't even bear thinking of its existence. That thing was nothing like his friend, nothing like that bad-ass idiot, noisy, fucked-up, over self-esteemed freak. And yet it stood there quietly, and deep inside he knew that it would never make another sound.

Francis knelt down, putting that bunch of vulnerable looking flowers on the black tomb. "We know it's going to happen, eventually. We know." Francis patted the cold stone and rubbed the names carved on it with his trembling thumb, "Gilbert Beillschmidt."

The sun was setting down. They stood there quietly, letting the darkness finally cast the name into an invisible shadow.

"Antonio, come and say goodbye." He stood up, grabbed the other's shoulder.

Antonio quickly shrugged his hand away as if he was grabbed by a horrible disease, and it was. Sorrow grabbed his throat. He didn't think he was even able to talk.

"Come on, you know you have to do it." Francis sighed, "You have to let it go. You can't just leave it to haunt you…"

"Let it haunt." His voice was uneven. "Francis, we let it happened. We just let it fucking happened!" He covered his eyes with his hand. "We didn't do anything when that bastard took him away from us, and now we are doing it again! We did it again and again until… "

He was interrupted by a rough grab of his collar: "What can we do?! What can we possibly do! Be rational, Antonio! There was nothing we can do to keep him alive! You know it! You damn know it! Now say the fucking goodbye so we can leave and go home or hell whatever, did you hear me?!"

A fierce punch aimed at his face. The brunette's fist is large and powerful: "Don't ask me what to be rational, Francis! Nothing is rational! Nothing is making any fucking sense!"

"Enough!" Francis's nose was bleeding. He kicked the man's calf, made the crazy Spain felt with his face down.

Neither of them was getting up. They sat on the ground with their expensive looking suits, as two drunken nuts had just headed out of a bar, only it was three. Antonio finally started staring at the tomb:"I'm sorry, Gil." He cried as he reached out his hand to touch the hardness: "Just so you know, I'm so sorry."


	2. Chapter 2

It has been too noisy for my work. Ludwig is sitting on his boring wooden chair again, as usual. His hair was jammed on his head, as usual. His coffee, the well-made Italian coffee, always been put at the left corner of his desk, as usual, is on his desk. He can't see anything could piss him off anymore, he is just, you know, running out of options.

But it is really noisy.

The sound，he says to himself, is just too much to bear. The worst part is not the sound, not it at all. The worst part is he can not find anyone to shout to. The fact that he is in the excellent silent he would like to have for all these fucking years and he fucking hates it.

He can feel his head is spinning with the room. His tedious, nothing-interesting-at-all room suddenly starts to spinning with him. Ha, how hilarious.

He can feel his breathe starting to speed up, little by little, sucking his sense out of his body. His sight, the smell of the room, the warm air against his skin, they all started to fading away, but not his hearing, not at all. Ludwig knows it is not good. He is breaking down, second by second, shutting himself off. He didn't really know a country could ever shut him down, but guess what, maybe he can.

He knows he couldn't do it anymore. He has to get out of this hell. This infinity silence is eating his soul, draining his energy. He needs someone.

How pathetic it is.

Ludwig buried his face into his hands.

He really needs someone there just so they can be all noisy and annoying.

"Fuck!" He covered his mouth with his left hand, the hand his brother preferred during all kind of shit he did. "Fuck!"

Yeah, fuck you, Gilbert.

Ludwig called Feliciano just a minute ago. He knows that he can't be here just after he dragged his totally exhausted body out of the door, but he hopes he is here.

He doesn't even remember what he said on the phone. Did he beg? Did he cry? Was he being all unreasonable and pathetic? Why does he even care? He is dying inside.

He knew this day would finally come, didn't he? For god's sake he is the one causing all of this. If he did not exist, only if he could disappear instead of his brother, then all of it will be much easier.

After Gilbert's death, Ludwig ripped his sorrow out of him like ripped a band-aid off his skin, quick and painless. At least he thought so. Everybody told him to take it peacefully. They said that it can't be that difficult, we would be there with you, and you knew what, it was his wish that you could be the one to represent Germany. You know, he would go in peace.

Yes, yes, yes. All these bullshit, he understood years before all this started, is not making any sense now. Yes, he died in peace, like how he had always been-cannot be more carefree, and left his younger brother. And he is now peacefully dragging his legs, wandering in an empty pretty little house, waiting for someone to piss him off, well, apparently that is because his own brother can not do it anymore. The funny thing is, all of these, is as peaceful as they had predicted.

Brilliant!

Can that prediction be more awesome?

Hell no!

His sweat has already soaked his green tank and left a dark mark on his clothes. He feels he is running out of his strength. He past the room of his brother, the study with all his silly diaries, the kitchen with his favorite syrup, and now he is standing in front of the doorway. There are only a few steps to escape this horrible cage of thought. The outside must be great. You know the singing birds, shaking trees and all these warm sunshine, the fabulous world will be all over him, buried him into a true appreciation and happiness.

No, it's not.

No one is in the yard. Ludwig suddenly realizes that he had sent his dogs to Austria to be taken care of and that's why the whole yard is empty and quite now. Right, he did it because he can not take care of them while his own brother was slowly dying on the couch. The frustration and loneliness is now crushing his body. His legs are shaking, with fears and regrets. He shouldn't be thinking about it again. It should be long gone. Just like that funeral and the band-aid, being ripped out of his memory quick and painless, but yet he feels the sorrow is tearing him apart.

He sits down, leaning his back against the door. The sun is shining with the shaking trees and the singing birds. What a beautiful world. People must still be celebrating the whole unity thing. If he listens carefully, he might even hear the chant from his own people, the melody of children's laughing, but all he can hear now is the silence.

"Where are you, guys?" His voice is trembling, as if he just learnt how to talk. "Where did you go?"

"Ludwig!" Someone is calling him, shouting his name. "Ludwig, I'm here. You know, I have been running as soon as you hung up. Are you okay? You don't sound okay. Oh, god, you don't look okay. What do you need? A drink, cocoa, or maybe a good plate of pasta can cheer you up? Do you need me to make it? Can I use your kitchen? Ludwig, what's wrong? Why are you not talking? Why don't you shut me up? You know, it is even scarier if you don't shout at me at all, captain. "

Ludwig can feel the strength of his body is filling him up again by this cheerful little Italian. "Feliciano, just keep talking, please." He stands up, circles his arms around his shoulder, hearing all the useless care floating by his ears. It's okay. It's okay now.

It's just like his brother's voice during all these dark years when he was still a little child who can not bear to sleep by himself. My little brother, it's okay now.

His eyelids are heavy, his sight become darker. But it's okay. He can feel his consciousness is fading away. Finally, he could fall in sleep.


End file.
